1001 Stories from Blaine Anderson's Classroom
by K8Malloy
Summary: A/U: Blaine's an English teacher at Dalton Academy. These are his stories of life and learning inside the walls of his classroom.
1. When Everything That Could Go Wrong

**_A/N: _**_These stories are all based on my RL professional experiences._

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own Glee. Oh the things I would do if I did._

* * *

><p><strong><em>When Everything that Could Go Wrong …<em>**

Blaine stared at the computer screen, squinting his eyes at the email he'd just received. Pulling his glasses from his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and picked up the phone, dialing the three digit number that would connect him to Wes.

In rang five times before the attendance secretary picked up. "Student Services."

"Hi Moira, it's Blaine."

"Hey, Blaine."

"Is Wes in his office? I have a quick question for him," Blaine asked, leaning back in his chair. He could hear Moira sigh before answering.

"He is, but he's on another line. It's been kinda crazy today. If you want, I'll let him know you're looking to talk to him. You here for a while or are you taking off?"

Blaine glanced over at the ungraded stack of tests and essays on his desk. "I'll be here until about 5. You can tell him I was wondering why Donnie was suspended pending expulsion. I got an email from Wes, and then one from Donnie's mom an hour later requesting homework. Kid earned less than a 30% in my class last semester, so I'm wondering how much effort I should put in gathering up three weeks worth of assignments for a kid who isn't likely to do them anyway."

Moira chuckled knowingly. "Will do."

An hour later, Blaine heard the sound of someone using a key to enter his locked classroom. Looking up, he waved in greeting to Wes Montgomery, Dean of Students at Dalton Academy for Boys. Quickly reading over the last paragraph of the essay he'd been grading, Blaine highlighted the rubric for the student, wrote a D minus at the top of the paper along with 'eligible for rewrite' and dropped it on the small pile of graded papers he'd managed to complete.

Wes ran his hand over the top of his head, staring at the colorful decorations Blaine had hung on the walls of his classroom. Vocabulary terms on construction paper, student work examples, and Wes's favorites – old calendar pages showing various scenes made entirely of fruits, vegetables and other edible items. When Blaine picked up his messenger bag, Wes finally met his friend's gaze. "You and Kurt have plans tonight?"

Cocking his head to the side, Blaine studied Wes. "No."

"Good. Call him. Tell him to meet us at Capriccio's. Drinks and dinner are on me, tonight." Seeing Blaine's protest rising up, Wes held out his hand. "Stop. Uh uh. I need to decompress with my friends and I'm paying. End of argument. You two can buy dessert if we still have room."

"That bad," Blaine said, pulling his cell phone out and hitting Kurt's speed dial number.

"Worse."

* * *

><p>They asked for a secluded booth towards the back – which is where Kurt found Blaine and Wes, sitting across from each other, well into a bottle of white wine. Sliding into the booth next to Blaine, Kurt subtly signaled the waiter, asking for a glass and placed an order for fried calamari and the antipasto platter. "Let's get some food in your tummies as well as that Chardonnay," he remarked quietly, rubbing Blaine's stomach briefly."<p>

"Thanks, Kurt," Wes said glumly staring into the pale yellow liquid in his glass.

Waiting for Wes to begin talking about his day, Blaine dropped his hand beneath the table, squeezing Kurt's knee gently. "Thanks for meeting us here, Babe," he said with a soft kiss to Kurt's cheek.

"You two … even after all this time you're still two love struck dorks, aren't you?" Wes smiled at his friends, dropping his chin into his hand to stare at them.

"He's a dork," Kurt teased, pointing at Blaine. "I'm fabulous."

When they all had finished laughing at Kurt's words, the waiter arrived with the antipasto platter. Wes picked up several olives, popping them into his mouth. "So … today. Today was … interesting, he began slowly.

"We had a couple kids come in to report their friend was threatening to kill himself with a gun, and take a few more classmates out when he did."

Blaine sat up straight, all business. "Someone I know?"

"Nah. Don't think so. Freshman." Wes dished a few more items from the platter on to his plate, chewing slowly. "He'll be out on a five day suspension for 'terroristic threats' but I don't think we'll be pushing for expulsion. Right now that's not the kind of help he needs. Mental health services was interviewing him and his family – he'll be going to the hospital on a psych hold."

Kurt shook his head. "That's rough, Wes."

Wes laughed humorously. "That was the beginning. Then we dealt with Donnie – _your_ Donnie, Anderson – who brought a five inch knife to school and then made the stellar choice to show it to a bunch of kids in math class. That's mandatory expulsion. And then – over the walkie – Nick radios in that he needs us to come out to the field because he's caught four kids smoking pot behind the baseball dugout."

"That's what I was dealing with when you called. Talking to parents, talking to the students. Searching everyone's locker and PE locker, bringing in their backpacks and searching them in front of the kids and their parents. Marijuana, bongs, and one kid at a huge butane blow torch. He'll go up for expulsion for having something that was explosive on campus."

Wes downed what was in his glass, pouring himself another glass. "Just – **_fuck_**."

Blaine tapped Wes's foot with his own. "Well, if there's a bright side to any of this, you didn't catch anyone having sex in the porta-potty on the track, or in the school bathrooms, or teachers' offices. No staff members being fired for downloading porn using the school computers. No cars crashing into classrooms. No drunk teachers trying to teach."

Kurt's eyes widened as Blaine's list grew longer. "You're shitting me. That has not happened at Dalton," he said incredulous.

"Um, all in the last year," Wes said with a snort. "Okay, you're right. I guess it could have been worse. So Kurt, tell me about your day. What was the biggest problem you handled today."

Kurt grinned. "Deciding what I'm having for dinner."

Wes tossed an olive pit at Kurt. "Asshole."

"I'm an asshole who has the perfect blind date for you."

"Christ! And the hits just keep coming."

Kurt waggled his finger at Wes. "Don't bitch. You know getting laid regularly will help with your stress levels. And fucking your own hand doesn't count."

Wes glared at Blaine. "Why did we invite him?"

"You invited him," Blaine replied, holding his hands out to placate Wes.

"Yeah, but you're the one who found him in the hallway, grabbed his hand and went skipping to off to eye fuck him while singing 'Teenage Dream'." Despite trying to sound angry, Wes couldn't keep his lips from twitching up at the sides. "Worst spy ever."

"Feeling better?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow at Wes.

"A little. Thanks."

"Anytime."


	2. We Did Nothing

**_We Did Nothing_**

Blaine flung himself onto the butter-soft leather couch, his messenger bag falling from his fingers to the floor. Covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow, he tried desperately to shed the frustration of his day from his soul before he interacted with Kurt. It certainly wasn't Kurt's fault that his students were, well, behaving like teenagers.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes, Kurt sat at the opposite end of the couch, Blaine's feet in his lap, reading.

"Hey," Blaine rasped out, moving to sit up just a bit.

"Hey, yourself, Handsome. You were out cold when I got home." Kurt placed his tablet down on the coffee table before tugging Blaine to sit in his lap. "Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured, brushing his lips across Blaine's stubbled jaw.

Twisting his head, Blaine met Kurt's lips, spending several languid moments reacquainting himself with Kurt's taste, and the delicious heat that still pooled in his belly when he dipped his tongue into Kurt's mouth. He still marveled at how Kurt always knew exactly what he needed, whether or not he knew it himself.

Pulling back, Blaine settled his head on Kurt's shoulder, toying with the buttons on Kurt's silk shirt. "I went into the Activities Office after school today and ran across one of my students that should have been in my third-block class. There was a rally at lunch, so I knew he'd be late, but he didn't show up the entire class. I told him we'd covered the entire Act 1 of Taming of the Shrew."

Blaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He tells me that he asked his friend in second-block, and he told him we didn't do anything in class today."

"Because clearly covering an entire act of Shakespeare is 'doing nothing'," Kurt snarked gently.

"Clearly. I went back to my classroom and gave him a copy of the play and some of the notes, but now, because his idiot friend thinks my class is a joke"

"I'm sure he doesn't think that," Kurt interrupted.

Blaine shrugged. "Anyway, he missed out on class because his buddy is an ass. I may or may not have used those terms in discussing how disappointed I was - in both of them."

Their moment was broken when Blaine's stomach growled loudly. "Shit, I didn't make dinner. I'm sorry, Kurt." When Blaine tried to stand, Kurt wrapped his arms more tightly around Blaine's waist, keeping him in his lap.

"I took care of it, Sweetheart."

Blaine brought their foreheads together. "I feel bad. That's not our agreement," he whispered softly.

Kurt brushed his lips against Blaine's. "If you came home when it was my night to cook and found me snoring softly on the couch,"

"I don't snore," Blaine protested, wrapping his arms around Kurt's shoulders, pulling them closer.

Kurt chuckled. "Hate to burst your bubble, but you do. And if I were asleep after a long week of work, you would have done the same thing. I ordered Thai, and it's keeping warm in the oven."

Blaine seemed to deflate a bit. "But ... but we're supposed to be saving money by not eating out."

"Honey? One meal isn't going to bankrupt us." Kurt ran his hands over Blaine's back. "Tomorrow's Saturday. Let's just hang out here all day, hmmm? Clothing optional?"

Blaine groaned. Pulling away from Kurt, he managed to put a knee on the edge of the couch while pushing Kurt to lie down. Covering Kurt's body with his own, Blaine's fingers flicking the buttons of Kurt's shirt open, kissing the warm flesh as it was exposed. "Dinner can wait," he grunted, "gonna show you how much I love you."

Wrapping a leg around Blaine's waist, Kurt teased breathily, "Yes, please, Mr. Anderson."

"Don't get cheeky, Mr. Hummel," Blaine warned, tracing Kurt's pebbled nipple with his teeth. "You know what happens when you're cheeky."

"And I know what it does to you when I am," Kurt moaned, thrusting his hips up against Blaine's. "Admit it, Mr. Anderson. You want me to be cheeky, because you like turning me over your knee and slapping my ass with your hand. It turns you on more than you want to admit."

Blaine sat up on his knees, making swift work of his belt buckle and pants, shoving them off and on to the floor before doing the same for Kurt. Tugging his sweater and undershirt off, Blaine straddled Kurt's thighs, brushing their erections together. Slowly he leaned over Kurt, reaching with one hand for the drawer in the coffee table that held a small bottle of lube they kept there for impromptu sexy times.

"Mr. Hummel - what turns me on isn't really something that you should be concerned with. Your concerns should center around passing your classes, and graduating on time," Blaine teased, pouring the cool liquid into his hand to warm it before taking Kurt in his hand.

"Fuck, Blaine," Kurt whined, writhing underneath his lover. After the first time they'd role-played Kurt being Blaine's student, both had realized how much it worked for them. Now it had become a fairly regular part of the sexual side of their relationship.

"So you like that, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt hissed, "Yes, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine took both their erections in one hand, using the other to guide Kurt's hand to meet his own. "That's it, Baby. Look at what you do to me. So hard. Help me out."

Unable to keep his eyes open, Kurt shut them tight, giving himself over to the electric sensations as his fingers and Blaine's fingers slid rapidly over their engorged cocks. "Blaine," he wailed.

The retribution was swift as Blaine's free hand slapped down on Kurt's ass. "What have I told you about using my first name, Mr. Hummel?"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Kurt panted.

"Spread your legs," Blaine ordered as he brought a knee between Kurt's legs, forcing them apart. "That's it. Just like that."

Kurt felt more lube being poured on to his stomach, and then Blaine was lying on him, erections caught between them. "Fuck. Yes," he continued to pant, wrapping his legs around Blaine. Blaine took his hands and intertwined their fingers together, holding them against the arm rest as he began to thrust rapidly against Kurt.

Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine's hands. "Fuck. I'm close, B. So fucking close."

Blaine caught Kurt's lips with his own, frantically kissing him as he felt his own orgasm over take him. It only slightly muffled Kurt's keening when he finally fell over the edge as well.

After he had caught his breath, Blaine moved onto his side so as to not crush Kurt. "I love you, Kurt," he murmured, tracing Kurt's lips with his fingers.

"I love you too, Blaine Anderson. I love you too."


	3. Burn, Baby, Burn

**_Burn, Baby, Burn_**

"Historically, the expression '_close but no cigar'_ traces its roots to the late 1800s and early 1900s when traveling carnivals and circuses were making their way around the United States."

Casually leaning against a table at the front of his classroom, Blaine was half way through the day's notes, keeping an eye on his students who were writing their notes into spiral notebooks or typing them on lap tops as he spoke.

When most of the heads in the classroom popped back up to look at him, Blaine continued. "Today, you might spend your money trying to win a giant stuffed pink panda for your girlfriend – or boyfriend," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Some of you … and you know who you are … might just try to bribe the person behind the counter. '_Just take the fifty bucks, man_,'" Blaine lowered his voice, taking on the persona of stereotypical teenager. "'_Come on, Dude. Let me buy the panda._' Well, back then, instead of large stuffed animals made in a foreign country for pennies on the dollar, cigars were handed out as the top prize."

"We use the expression today to mean that you've not quite been successful. So, I'll tell you now, I don't want to be telling you, come May, '_Sorry, Susie Bagodoughnuts, Tommy Bagodoughnuts, you're close to passing English, but no cigar_." Blaine smiled at his students while they laughed at his joke.

"Okay, next expression," Blaine began, only to be interrupted by a shrill, piercing alarm. Startled, all of the students sat up, looking at Blaine for direction. "Fire alarm, folks. You know the drill. Evac out to our designated area. Leave your things. Kyle, you'll take the clipboard and hold it up so the admin can see we've left the room. Everyone else, follow Kyle."

Just as Blaine stopped speaking, Wes Montgomery, Dean of Students, began making an announcement over the loud speaker.

"Teachers, this is not a drill. We are evacuating at this time. Please clear your classrooms. Again this is not a drill. Please evacuate the buildings."

Blaine motioned his students through the door to his classroom, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. By the time he reached the designated evacuation sight, all of his students were standing together near Kyle who held the clipboard with the classroom number on it. "I need to take role, folks. Please respond with a loud, clear 'here' when I call your name," Blaine called out over their general noise.

While he was taking role, Blaine and his students watched as four or five police cruisers sped past, through the parking lot towards the back fields.

"Mr. Anderson? What's going on?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm not sure. Although I'm guessing it isn't another chemistry experiment gone bad. Don't worry about it. I don't smell anything burning." Blaine finished accounting for his class and stood with them, watching somewhat amazed as first one, then another, and then a third fire engine came driving past, not slowing down as they made their way through the narrow passage towards the back of the school.

"Holy crap!" yelled a student, and everyone turned towards the front of the parking lot where a large ladder truck was pulling in.

"Seriously, Mr. Anderson – do you know anything?"

Shaking his head, Blaine looked at his students. "You're more likely to get information as wired to social media as you are. Half of your classmates evac to the back field. What are they seeing?"

Blaine felt his phone buzz in his pocket and slid it out, seeing he'd received a text from Jeff.

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><p>From: J. Sterling<p>

To: B. Anderson

Sent: 1:23pm

Sup?

* * *

><p>From: B. Anderson<p>

To: J. Sterling

Sent: 1:25pm

IDK. Seen 4 patrol & 3 fire engines all speed thru to back of school.

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><p>From: J. Sterling<p>

To: B. Andersonc

Sent: 1:34pm

Im hearing cafeteria

* * *

><p>From: B. Anderson<p>

To: J. Sterling

Sent: 1:35pm

Thought it was closed to prepare for construction?

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><p>From J. Sterling<p>

To: B Anderson

Sent: 1:37pm

It is. Mysterious, huh?

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><p>From B. Anderson<p>

To: J. Sterling

Sent: 1:46pm

sooooooooooooooooooooo bored

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><p>From: B. Anderson<p>

To: Kurt

Sent: 1:48pm

we evac'ed for a fire 35 minutes ago. In parking lot/ w my students. Bored. But there's fire fighters to stare at.

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><p>As time passed, it became clearer that this wasn't simply another false alarm caused by chemistry class or the water level in the sprinkler system dropping unexpectedly, triggering an alarm. One by one, Blaine's students sat on the curb, on the bumpers of teachers' cars, or on the ground waiting for the Headmaster or Mr. Montgomery to call the "all clear" so they could go back to class.<p>

Mostly, everyone was anxious to know what was going on, especially when the occasional administrator or firefighter would jog past, moving back into the school complex. Blaine kept assuring his students that he had no information to share, other than they would need to stay here, out of the way, until the scene was cleared.

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><p>To: B. Anderson<p>

From: J. Sterling

Sent: 2:02pm

Do we let the kids go at 2:25?

* * *

><p>To: J. Sterling<p>

From: B. Anderson

Sent: 2:04pm

They can't go back to get their things. Where would they go?

* * *

><p>To: B. Anderson<p>

From: J. Sterling

Sent: 2:05pm

clusterf##k

* * *

><p>To: J. Sterling<p>

From: B. Anderson

Sent: 2:07pm

at least its not raining

* * *

><p>To: B. Anderson<p>

From: J. Sterling

Sent: 2:08pm

whateva, Pollyanna

* * *

><p>Almost an hour after they had all evacuated to the parking lots, the police cruisers came back around the school buildings, leaving the parking lot at a much reduced speed. Several students pointed towards the front of the school where the ladder truck was pulling away. "Looks like we're almost done here," Blaine said to no one in particular.<p>

Moments later, Wes could be seen marching down the corridor, motioning for everyone to go back to their classrooms. "Okay folks," Blaine announced, "let's get back to class and see what we can accomplish."

Blaine checked the clock as he walked inside his classroom. 2:17pm. Eight minutes remained in the day. "Settle down. Let me give you the last three expressions so we don't have to pick this up next class."

His students settled right down to work.

* * *

><p>Kurt spooned a forkful of pasta into his mouth, listening intently to Blaine's story. "So was there a fire?" he asked curiously.<p>

Swallowing, Blaine shrugged. "I haven't confirmed anything with Wes, yet. But, the reliable rumor is that some moron put something on one of the stoves in the cafeteria, turned the stove on, and left. One of our custodians went in and used a fire extinguisher to put out the fire in the oven, and was transported via ambulance because of the smoke he inhaled. That much I know for sure, because Jeff saw it."

Kurt shook his head. "And when the decision was made to clear the cafeteria because of construction, who forgot to unplug the stoves?"

"Yeah." Blaine sighed.

"Well, I'm really glad you're safe, the school's safe, and that everything turned out for the best."

"Me too. Another chapter for my eventual book," Blaine teased.

Kurt smirked. "So how cute _were_ these firefighters?"

"Calendar cute."


End file.
